


Sweetworded Desires

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bittersweet Ending, Desire, F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9784457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: At a symposium in Athens, one hetaira above the rest catches Sappho’s eye.





	

The woman is Sappho’s opposite in every way. Where Sappho is average in height, build, and looks, the hetaira is tall, curvaceous, and stunning to look upon. Sappho wears her black hair in a bun, and veiled, while the hetaira’s sun-lightened hair is loose, parted down the middle, and falling around her shoulders in waves. Sappho has clothed herself in pale blue like the sky; the hetaira is dressed in deep, earthy red. Light and dark, red and blue, the contrast awes Sappho. She cannot help staring at this woman.

She is not the only one.

She sees Pericles, politician and the symposium host, watching the hetaira even as he debates with his companions. Indeed, most of the guests have their eyes on this woman, and the ones who do not have not yet caught sight of her. Even some of the slaves and other hetairai are distracted from their duties.

Sappho jumps when Pericles silences the room and introduces Sappho to her audience. She has travelled all the way to Athens, westwards across the Aegean Sea, for this: to sing at Pericles’s request. He describes her as a rising star from Lesbos, with the makings to become the best poet to ever live. It is high praise indeed; she hopes she can live up to it.

She stands with her lyre in the centre of the room and begins. The notes come to her with the Muses’ blessing, her voice and music flowing out of her very being. She captures the attention of every soul in the room, relishes it, soaks in their energy and applies it to her performance. When she finishes the song, which she composed for the occasion, the applause is thunderous. She gazes unseeing at the audience, until the woman in red meets her eye. The hetaira is smiling, and beckoning to her.

“Your performance was beautiful,” says the hetaira when Sappho approaches her. Her voice is rich and accented. Like Sappho, she too has come from the colonies in the east. “The music, your voice... and the lyrics. You made me feel so many things, with so few words, that I was moved to tears.”

Sappho’s heart leaps. Her song, about desire and longing, she sang for this woman in front of her, and to hear of the enjoyment, the emotional response she created, is enough to make her happy for days. “You honour me, truly,” she says with a blush upon her tanned cheeks. “But what is your name so I might thank you properly?”

The room around them disappears as the woman smiles brighter. “I am Aspasia of Miletus, and it is a great pleasure to meet you, Sappho of Lesbos.”

She takes Sappho’s hand and kisses it, and Sappho can think of nothing but her longing for this woman.

“The pleasure is all mine; I can assure you.” Sappho’s voice is deep with desire, her senses clouded as she feasts her eyes on every visible inch of Aspasia: her hair, her face, her intelligent brown eyes, her bare arms; all as beautiful as a goddess.

“You are blessed by Aphrodite to speak so truthfully of love,” Aspasia speaks at the same time as Sappho: “Aphrodite has blessed you with beauty to rival Helen herself.”

They laugh, looking into each other’s eyes. Sappho knows, somewhere deep inside her, that Aspasia was born to flattery, that making her companion feel good is her job as a hetaira, but still she wants, longs, _lusts_ for Aspasia. Right now, this woman is everything.

The moment lasts an age, but even an age is not enough, and Pericles is interrupting them. Thanking Sappho for her wonderful performance, he then turns to Aspasia and introduces himself, suggesting they talk somewhere more private, as he has heard of her intellect and wishes to discuss politics with her. Sappho is dismissed.

Her heart breaks as she watches Aspasia take Pericles’s arm and walk with him to a secluded corner away from the carousing of all the guests. The moment she shared with Aspasia has ended, and it was not enough, not nearly enough. They had a beautiful moment together, the type that has the potential to change lives, and it was over much too soon. But while she hurts, she cannot be surprised. Such is the nature of love.


End file.
